


Darkness on the Edge of Town

by palominopup



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, M/M, Season 13 Castiel's death, Season 13 Castiel/Dean Winchester Reunion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-06
Updated: 2018-06-06
Packaged: 2019-05-19 00:57:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14863614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/palominopup/pseuds/palominopup
Summary: This is tagged MCD, but we all know Cas comes back to Dean, so is it really? A special thanks to Erika for the pic.





	Darkness on the Edge of Town

_Well, everybody's got a secret, Sonny_  
_Something that they just can't face_  
_Some folks spend their whole lives trying to keep it_  
_They carry it with them every step that they take_

_Till some day they just cut it loose_  
_Cut it loose or let it drag 'em down_  
_Where no one asks any questions_  
_Or looks too long in your face_  
_In the darkness on the edge of town_  
_In the darkness on the edge of town_

__

He’d wanted to keep the damn trenchcoat, but giving Cas a hunter’s send-off without it seemed wrong.

Long after the fire was just a pile of embers, Dean stood, draped in a mantle of memories. Sam had left him alone long ago. The loud pop of vapor trapped in one of the burning logs brought him out of his thoughts. Cas was gone.

Dean walked slowly back to the cabin, watching his feet. One foot in front of another. One step closer to moving on. A bitter laugh escaped. _Yeah, right_.

“I thought you’d want these,” Sam said softly. He held out Cas’ wallet, keys, and cell in his large grip. Dean stared at them for so long, Sam lowered his arm. Before it reached his side, Dean’s hand shot out.

He took them out to Cas’ truck and climbed inside the cab. The stupid key ring was one he’d picked up at a gas station. The bumblebee was cheap, but Cas was proud of his find. Dean set it on the seat next to him.

The wallet was one Sam had given the angel years ago. The brown leather was worn with age. A twenty was tucked inside. The same bill Dean gave him last week. “ _Here’s your allowance, Cas. Don’t spend it all in one place._ ”

Dean flipped through Cas’ FBI badge, his fake driver’s license listing him as Angus Young, and a credit card for emergencies.

A tiny scrape of paper was folded carefully behind the license. Curious, Dean pulled it out. It was from inside a fortune cookie.

 

Why had Cas kept it? Exhaling softly, he put it back where he got it.

The phone proved to be problematic. It required a four-digit code. Dean tried the obvious. One, two, three, four. _Incorrect PIN entered_. Dean frowned at the screen. Cas didn’t have a birthday. Dean only had two more chances before it would lock him out.

He tapped his fingertip on the steering wheel, all the while, staring at the phone. On a whim, he touched zero, one, two, and four. The screen opened to a photo of a flower. Dean smirked. Leave it to Cas…

Realization made Dean’s heart pound like a bass drum. Cas used Dean’s birthday as his PIN. He dropped the phone like it was on fire. It glanced off his denim-clad thigh and hit the floor between his feet.

Gripping the wheel with both of his hands, Dean blinked back tears. He wouldn’t cry. Not over Cas. Not over losing the one true friend he ever had. Not over the man he… No. If he was too much of a coward to admit it when Cas was alive, it would be sacrilegious to do it now that he was gone.

Dean stared out of the windshield. Sam was leaning on the hood of the Impala, gazing out over the lake. Clearly, he was ready to leave… to get away from the lingering stench of burned flesh.

Huffing out an angry breath, he fished the phone off the floor and tapped in the numbers again.

He scanned the aps. Angry birds. That one made him smile. Most of the others were typical. He touched the icon for messages. He found his name and scrolled backward. The dumbass kept every fucking text between them. Dean winced at the tone of some of his. It was no wonder Cas gave himself over to Lucifer all those months ago. Yet, Cas loved him. He’d said so, but Dean wasn’t stupid enough to think it was _that_ kind of love. No one could feel _that_ way about Dean Winchester.

Moving on to the gallery, Dean began flipping through pictures. Among the images of flowers, cute animals, and scenic vistas, he found his own face. He backed out of the thumbnails and found an album simply entitled _Dean_.

His head thrown back in laughter. Asleep on an unknown hotel bed. Back to the camera as he cooked. Sun glinting off his sunglasses. Smiling at Sam. So many pictures. Hundreds of nothing but Dean.

The last picture was of him sleeping again. It was a closeup. His lashes rested on his cheeks and his freckles were prominently displayed in the artificial light from his bedside lamp. Dean looked at the screen until it went black.

Movement out of the corner of his eye made him glance up. Sam stood there, expression full of compassion. It was an expression Dean was familiar with. He’d seen it a thousand times over the years when Sam spoke to the families of victims.

Dean opened the door and stepped out. “Did you find the pictures?”

He looked at Sam sharply, eyes narrowed suspiciously. “How did you…”

“While you said your goodbye, I opened his phone. I didn’t mean to pry. I only looked at a few.” Sam sounded apologetic, but Dean’s anger was too close to the surface.

“How did you know his PIN? Did he tell you?” Why would Sam know and not him? It was like a knife to his chest.

“He didn’t have to. It was the only logical choice. He loved you,” Sam said gently, letting his words sink in.

“He was family,” Dean replied, as if denying Sam’s implication would make it true.

“Dean…”

“No,” Dean spat, brushing past his brother. His eyes were drawn to the pile of ashes and he stumbled, dropping Cas’ phone to the ground. An anguished cry made its way past his lips and he hit his knees. Picking up the phone, he carefully brushed off the dirt. He squeezed his eyes shut and felt the grief he’d tamped down overwhelm him again. “I loved you too,” he whispered, praying that wherever angels went when they died, Cas could hear him.

***

Was it weeks or months that had passed since Cas’ death? Dean didn’t really know or care. Mostly he was lost in a bottle. Sam’s pitying looks were driving him crazy and the booze wasn’t helping anymore.

Daily, he’d take out Cas’ phone and look at the pictures of himself and try to see what Cas saw. Once, in a pit of despair, he sent Cas a text and when his damn phone pinged, he imagined for a second that Cas could read the words, _I love you_.

Then the call came. His first thought when he heard the painfully familiar voice was that someone would have to die for playing this horrific joke. His second thought was to go get his angel.

Seeing him in that alley, beautiful and alive was all Dean needed to make him whole again. Holding him in his arms would have to do for now, but soon, he’d get the courage to tell Cas how he felt.

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a short piece and there will not be anything added. It was something I needed to get out.


End file.
